


If there's a smile on my face

by Kittenfightclub



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Baze's glorious mane, Comfort, Hair Braiding, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Starvation, Mentions of homelessness, actually just 2k words of nonsense with a catchy label on the tin, im sorry for the many many tense changes, lap-sitting ;), mentions of killing, the only thing i fixed was misspelled words, unspoken conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenfightclub/pseuds/Kittenfightclub
Summary: "We should leave this moon.""We can't leave.""Why not?""You love it here."The sacrifices they make for love, and how they deal with the consequences





	If there's a smile on my face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Barbarismbeginsathome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbarismbeginsathome/gifts).



> the title is from Tears of a Clown, by smokey Robinson and the Miracles because it was in the "60s pop" playlist I was listening to while writing, and was probably the reason why this fic ended up so sad
> 
> usually i have like 500 words of introspection at the beginning of fics, this time I chopped off most of it, so if it makes 0 sense, that's probably why

Baze wouldn't talk about his work- trying to protect his husband’s mind from the horrors, Chirrut supposed, but it wasn't like he was an idiot. Baze was an assassin; sometimes he came home with blood on his gloves and stained onto his fingertips, Even scrubbing at it for hours wouldn’t get the pale pink tinge out of his skin. Chirrut could smell it on him, and while it didn't make him happy that that was the life Baze had chosen, no, been forced to lead; he knew that he wasn't in any position to complain.

He knew that Baze only did it so that Chirrut would not have to worry about currency, about eating, about where they would live. At one point they had worried day in and day out, then Baze started freelancing. 

Chirrut appreciated the roof over his head, and thanked the Force -and Baze, his Force- for allowing them to live; surely if he had been allowed to stay together with Baze for so long, nothing could break them apart.

It was because of Baze that they have what they have; Chirrut does nothing for them except sit by the street and pray for mere tokens a day, and he is shamefully aware of that fact. Some days he even comes home without the few coins he leaves in his bowl as an example.

.

"There was a woman, her child is sick-"

"It's alright, Chi," Baze sighed, planting a weary kiss on his husband’s forehead before drifting off down the short hall for a shower.  Baze was always so tired, and sometimes he even seemed miserable. Chirrut wondered if he was miserable; they had never been miserable before, especially not Baze- Baze had always been glorious happiness embodied. 

Chirrut saw rage in himself sometimes; he had been angry when his eyesight had been taken, despite it being the  _ will of the Force _ t, and he became weak and violent from fear. 

But, he couldn't see any of that in Baze. Baze might be an assassin, but he wasn't violent, and he didn't deserve unhappiness in return for that.

.

"We should leave this moon," Chirrut said without turning his head when Baze returned. He didn’t need to, there was no one else in the room. Baze would know who he was talking to. He heard Baze draw up behind him, rubbing his hair through with a towel to dry the soft, yet hopelessly tangled, brown curls and braids, and Chirrut felt the humidity of the hot water in his lover's skin. He smelled the scent of Baze's soap, and reached a hand back to feel, to comfort.

"We can't leave."

"Why not?" Chirrut didn't understand. 

Baze sighed, shifting the towel to one hand, and raising the other to rub Chirrut head. He sighed and then spoke. "You love it here."

Chirrut turned red and said nothing else. He couldn't lie- he did love it there. He wanted to tell Baze that he would compromise: he would go anywhere that Baze liked, any planet, whether it forested or desert, as long as Baze was with him. He would live in poverty, Baze didn't have to have a job there, he didn't need one, they would survive. They could run away and keep running, Chirrut would be able to joke and laugh even then, _ ‘I am quite tired of responsibility anyways!’ _ . Chirrut would keep running as long as he had to, away from everything he had ever known, anything he had ever loved, as long as Baze was with him.

 

He wanted to tell Baze all of those things, but he couldn't. He sat in shocked silence; Baze removed his hand from where it still pet at Chirrut's hair and left the room.

.

It was later that night; Baze had gone to bed, but when Chirrut entered the room he could tell instantly that Baze was not sleeping. His breath was too strained, too heavy, and too loud. He heard Baze shift on the small cot that they shared (there were so few resources in the shelter, who were they to waste a bed. They would share the shred of space, despite Baze hardly fitting on it himself, as they had for many many years) and even turned towards him when he heard a soft groan. 

"Baze?"

There was no reply; Chirrut listened for the soft hum he usually got in response- Baze reassuring him that he was still awake. Baze was still awake, why wouldn't he react?

"Baze?" Chirrut whispered a little softer but moved a little closer, gently toeing off his slippers and laying a soft hand on his husband's shoulder. He heard Baze draw one long, slow breath, as though Chirrut wouldn't notice his far-above-resting heart rate, and think him sleeping.

Chirrut gentled crawled up onto the cot with Baze. sitting cross legged on top of his lover's calves, and ran his hands up and down his hips. 

"You're awake."

Baze opened his eyes wearily at that, and managed a small nod.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes?"

"What's wrong love?" Chirrut started running his hands in wider arcs. He felt over Baze's chest and thighs and neck, before landing on his shoulders. Baze flinched.

"It hurts you..." Chirrut mumbled, leaning in to kiss the spot before sitting upright again to turn his body to face Baze directly -or as directly as possible-, as if to say 'answer this question or i will be betrayed'. 

"Yeah," Baze shrugged and then hissed again, before yielding to Chirrut's tugging hands and sitting up on the bed. When Chirrut once again clasped his lips against the dark bruise, Baze continued, "It's not that bad..."

Chirrut simply continued, feeling with his hands and lips around the area for other injuries. When he found none, he sighed, somewhat thankful but still worried. "You're too tense. it wouldn't hurt so bad if you weren't so tense."

 

That was another way in which Baze's job had not been kind to him: constant tension. A tension which Baze would rarely even led Chirrut mend.

"Here." Chirrut patted his lap, "come close." Baze squinted his eyes and looked up; Chirrut was smiling, albeit drowsily and a little worriedly, but he was smiling. Baze sat up and shifted a little closer, so that he was sitting with the dip of his back at the curve of Chirrut's crossed legs. 

Chirrut smiled at that too, and Baze already felt a little better as his love gently wrapped his arms around his chest and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against the crook of Baze's neck. After only a moment though, Chirrut sat back again, raising his hands and gently beginning to rub soft circles into Baze's shoulders until they began to sag with exhaustion and relax.

"It's not healthy." Chirrut said, matter of fact. He cared of nothing more than Baze- not himself, not the moon, not the temple (although it drew quite close)-, sometimes Baze amused himself thinking of Chirrut worrying over a paper-cut. Chirrut’s worry may be common, but it was not uncalled for. 

"Starvation is not healthy, and yet you persis-,” Baze tried.

"You need food love, you work hard," Chirrut hummed, hardly opening his mouth, as he continued to rub at Baze's shoulders and then his back. 

He heard Baze's soft huff of disagreement, but when the other did not say anything about it, Chirrut gave a soft smile. Chirrut was content to go without food, so long as Baze came home safe.

"I would work better knowing that you are safe and well fed!"

 

"Hush, love."

 

"I do it all for you-"

 

"And I do nothing, I know, just hush and let me give you this solace," Chirrut sighed again. There was still tension in Baze's shoulders but he sensed that it would not be leaving so soon or so easily, and decided to start his next task. 

Chirrut pulled Baze a little closer still before setting to work tending to his hair.

 

Before, Baze had let his hair grow tangled and matted; he didn't much care for the aesthetics of it, he just found it did a good job of hiding his face during jobs, (and "allowing him to blend into crowds of women" Chirrut had once joked). He would tend to it sometimes, so that the mats would not force him to cut it entirely. 

But Chirrut adored it, and he adored it even more when it was recently tended; there were soft curls and flyaways to feel, and more than that, it was easier to read Baze's expression.

  
.   
  


So, Chirrut tended to his hair at night before going to bed, and sometimes in the mornings had Baze gotten it particularly tangled during the night. Eventually Baze just relied on him to do the task for him. 

Chirrut tried to stick to it as often as possible, like a routine; even if Baze had dozed off, he would try and gently tease away all the tangles with thin fingers before laying down to rest.

 

So, Chirrut set to work undoing the braids, gently unknotting the thin strips of leather that had been wrapped around them, while Baze stayed obediently silent.

 

It was obvious that Baze wished to say something- Chirrut could feel it in the room, an unspoken tension, and also in the lines of his cheeks whenever one of his hands happened to absentmindedly stray from his task. Baze was frowning; Chirrut would have to fix that.

 

The braids were undone, and Baze's worn and greasy curls spilled down over the front of his sleep shirt like silken trains. His hair was frizzy in these places- it wasn't like they were able to shower everyday and usually Baze's hair was tamed by this, but the recent shower had left his hair damp and wild. Baze never had enough sense to take his braids out before getting them wet; hair tending was Chirrut's job, yet he never minded the extra tangles.

 

Chirrut took the moment after finishing this first part of his task to kiss the underside of Baze's jaw; he felt the soft groan more than he heard it. Baze was trying to be stubborn, he could tell, so he took the touch away as soon as it started and went back to tending Baze's hair. He would let Baze be stubborn, after a while he wouldn't be able to resist. Chirrut allowed himself to laugh at that thought.

 

.

 

He combed through the tangles of the soft mass of loose hair, though he still made sure to keep the to-be-braided sections separate. 

It was more tangled in the large mass, but the tangles were much easier to undo since they were not trapped together and greasy, so it did not take very long at all.

 

After that of course, he gave Baze another kiss, he had earned it -this time on the shell of one of his ears- and giggled. Baze was relaxed; he sighed this time and even allowed for a small smile. Chirrut had accomplished his goal, but he still was not quite finished.

 

He prodded roughly at Baze's side, causing a huff, but Baze knew what was meant and turned around. They did this often, and while many nights not so much care was afforded, Baze knew what Chirrut was thinking, often before he gave any proof of it physically.

 

Baze sat cross-legged, facing Chirrut, and Chirrut scooted closer, plopping himself down onto Baze's lap. He gave Baze another kiss, a thank you for the supreme effort it must have taken his love to turn around, before turning his attention back to Baze's hair. 

He took one of the allotted chunks of hair and started gently braiding it. The braid was tight, but not painfully so- it was tight enough to stay intact throughout one potential sleepless night as well as the rest of the next day, until the routine would be repeated-. Chirrut was gentle with his love's hair, because as much as Baze tried not to act it, it was important to him. This routine was important to him. 

 

Chirrut wrapped the leather around the end and tied it off before kissing the knot; he continued onto the next chunk of hair, and then the next, and the next, until he was finished, and Baze's eyes kept drifting closed wearily.

  
  


Chirrut laughed and hopped off of his lap.

"Lay down Bazey." Baze could almost hear the dorky smile on Chirrut's face when he said it; he also knew quite well how the smile softened immediately after, when Chirrut gave him a kiss. "I've finished."

 

"Finally," Baze grumbled, laying down and letting Chirrut wrap himself around him. It was comforting; this is what contentment feels like, Baze knew.

And, even though tomorrow he would go back to killing, and Chirrut would continue starving, they were happy, and that was all that mattered.

 

 

 


End file.
